


Stolen Breath

by Aly_H



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alistair is very in love, F/M, Ficlet, Fluff, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Tumblr Prompt, Wedding, Wedding Nerves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-20 10:51:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16135718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aly_H/pseuds/Aly_H
Summary: Alistair is having trouble calming down before a big day - a very big day.---A Tumblr Prompt Fill for "Things you said when you were scared" with Alistair and my Eveline Cousland.





	Stolen Breath

“…I can’t,” he’d blanched, eyes darting for the exit of the tiny room. The silver and blue of his dress uniform suddenly constricting where it had fit perfectly before, the griffin insignia seemed to be clawing up to choke his breath away. “She’s making a mistake!”

His escape was currently blocked by an amused Antivan whose smirk – though an attempt was being made to conceal it – only served to make his heart beat that much faster as it raced in his throat and the knots in his stomach clenched tighter like some kind of snake around its prey.

“Might I offer you a bit of advice, my friend?” Zevran smiled some, “You might remember to breathe? It would be a good thing to do before you are on the floor, yes?”

Alistair’s glare was one to kill – it certainly could have quailed anyone _not_ the assassin. Almost anyone, anyways. There were several others on that list that he’d conveniently forgotten with both his panicked state and utter annoyance.

Still – he probably _did_ need that breath that he now sucked in as greedily as he could, trying to drown the rushing of his thoughts in the air filling his lungs.

How was _today_ almost as terrifying as the Archdemon? He had defeated a Blight for Andraste’s sake! (Well, helped defeat one – but still he could handle _this_ …couldn’t he?)

“Allow me?” Zevran stepped forward, hands raised, but he moved slow about it.

Alistair stiffened at first then nodded jerkily, letting the assassin’s fingers brushed over his collar, straightening it then tug his uniform this way and that so that it was hanging perfectly. A few more adjustments were made swiftly to his hair – the shorter man having to rise up on his toes a bit to reach it – before he stepped back.

“ _Tsk_ ,” he clicked his tongue in studious contemplation, before smiling broadly. “You, Alistair, will be the desire of many tonight.”

He found himself blushing – damn elf was still as shameless a flirt years after they’d traveled together as he had ever been – and scowling at his friend.

It wasn’t until he heard the bells that he realized that it was time and that he’d been distracted enough that he’d nearly forgotten to be afraid.

Oh, Maker, he was going to mess this up!

“It’s time, my friend,” Zevran finally moved out from his place guarding the door. With an affectionate pat on his arm the Antivan added, “You’ll feel much better when you’re there – or so I would assume. I, myself, have very little experience with such things.”

Exhaling shakily and inhaling again he nodded, walking with the elf at his side through the deserted paths that led to the Great Hall.

At first his eyes scanned over the crowds…faceless as his heart beat all the more frantically, too many people were watching – he’d have bolted if not for Zevran’s steadying presence at his back.

And then he saw her.

Evey.

Everything quieted and his chest loosened and his thoughts were calm and he could feel himself smiling back to her as she watched his approach.

She’d done her long black hair up, a red rose so like the color of the one that sits on her desk in Amaranthine nestled among her dark curls.

Her dress was a soft blue color - an older, simpler fashion but at that moment there was no woman more beautiful in Thedas no matter what they wore. (Although he might be slightly biased, he’d thought her the most beautiful woman ever covered in Darkspawn gore and mud and dog slobber.) Around her shoulders she wore a long cape - a glittering laurel of seaweed carefully stitched into the rich material.

Breathless again as he took her hand, feeling callouses left by her long years fighting by his side. His heart fluttered a little as he looked into her eyes, it suddenly felt overfull and warm and almost aching with the desire to kiss her.

Maker, he had to tell her something, not just stand there staring like a fool -

“ _Wow_ …”


End file.
